


Distant Times, Distant Skies

by lilolilyrae



Series: Inevitable Beginnings [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode tag: Terra Firma II, F/F, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, rated t for trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilolilyrae/pseuds/lilolilyrae
Summary: The Guardian of The Future had tested her- what if stepping through the portal in time was another, second test, to only heal her if she was not just changing and aiming for peace, but willing to leave all of her life behind?
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Mirror Philippa Georgiou
Series: Inevitable Beginnings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064435
Comments: 16
Kudos: 32





	Distant Times, Distant Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Alright I should be asleep for another four hours, can someone tell me why I'm writing this ficlet in a half asleep frenzy instead?? Terra Firma left me a Mess ™.

Philippa looked back over her shoulder to see Michael for one last second, one last time- she saw Michael open her mouth again, whether to sob, cry out or say something she couldn't tell- and then she had reached the portal, got sucked in and thrown to what was very distinctly _earth_.

The sounds of traffic, talking, children, human crowds. No battle noises, no sirens, no strict marshes, most certainly no-one fighting or fucking anywhere in the open.

No, this wasn't Terra. But then- hadn't the man, this being, said that in this time, it hadn't been Terra- yet? Both worlds were in the future-

Both worlds were in the future.

Philippa's knees gave out and she fell to the concrete, hard.

In the future.

She had left her time, her _present_ , behind, for the past.

In this time, she shouldn't be born yet, in this time, Michael- Her Michael, both, any of her Michaels, wouldn't be born yet. Didn't exist, would maybe never exist in this new world that was created now that she was here- didn't exist at all, not even in a picture.

She had nothing of her.

Why? How? Why didn't she at least have the smallest of memorabilia of her love?

A sob rose up in her throat, and Philippa wanted to bury her face in her hands, to openly cry and grieve, but- she didn't deserve that, did she?

No-one of the people on these streets was trying to take her out for her weakness, no-one was even bothering her with more than mildly curious or concerned looks as she started to weep. _This wasn't Terra_ , and she didn't care to find out how much it was like earth. 

Almost automatically, her arms moved behind her back, her wrists crossing, her face turned to the ground. The stance of a prisoner, and not one ready to die with honor. There was no honor to be found here, anyways.

Her head hurt. The time in her- the Terran- mirror- _that_ universe had completely thrown her off-kilter.

She had watched Michael die again, had _killed_ her- That it had all basically been a fever dream that had lasted nothing more than a few minutes to the other Michael made her head spin. She had _lived_ through that time, she had- she had-

And then Michael had been back- she had been back with Michael, that Michael, and after reorienting herself, for one glorious, glorious minute she had had hope, that now, it had finally been over, that she had been cured and would be allowed to return with her, live with her, _live_ \- but of course, she should have known. She didn't deserve such things.

She didn't deserve anything.

Voices, no longer just a steady stream from the distance- someone talking to her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, but Philippa only slightly swayed from one side to the other.

She didn't deserve someone to worry about her. She certainly didn't deserve anything or anyone making it better.

The universe had made its decision about her, and in the end, while not outright killing her, it had decided that, during Michael's time, she was to be dead.

"Maybe we should bring her to the center..." one woman's voice stood out from the slowly gathering crowd, and another replied: "But she's not Vulcan! Don't you think she aught to go to a hospital?"

"She's not from here either, don't you see how she's dressed? I'd say bring her to the academy hospital, but that's too far away... Maybe they'll know what is wrong with her, come on- hey, lady, do you think you can get up?"

Without replying, Philippa forced her legs underneath her to work, to bring her into a standing position, without looking up or caring much about her fate. It was not like she could stop much of it, now.

What she couldn't stop either, however, were her thoughts.

A Vulcan centre? Not just humans already quite blasé about the existence of aliens, but- the Vulcan healing centre in San Francisco? When had that even been built? She couldn't have ended up as far in the past as she had expected.

No, the traffic noise around her was still- already?- at the very least for the most parts hover based... Did her and- her _other_ universe really only split apart from each other this late?

Her head hurt, not from any illness but from grief, confusion, depression and regret. 

She half wished for the seizures to come back and take her- or to end it herself if they did not.

A dishonorable death, for sure, a weak one, but more pressingly one that was giving up, one that would betray the other Michael's faith in her as much as her original Michael's one.

Stumbling forward, she followed the helping hands along the street.

The centre really was close by, or she hadn't realized how long they had been walking, for only moments later, the doors to the Vulcan healing centre glided open. Philippa didn't care to look up, but when she was dragged aside to make way for someone else, she couldn't help but startle, look up- and come face to face with ambassador S'chn T'gai Sarek.

Impossible.

Of course it was impossible, this was the past, it would have to be some similar-faced ancestor- who was staring her down with what was, for a Vulcan, a shocked expression on his face.

"Georgiou? Philippa Georgiou?"

Maybe it should have been embarrassing, the amount of time she ended up on the floor this day, but Philippa didn't care: she fainted.

When she woke, it was to the most beautiful music in her ears. Well, not any music at all, but music _to_ her ears- a voice, slightly distorted through the long-range call, but yet undeniably _Michael._

"Father, you- you have no idea what happened to me in the past year," she heard Michael say, and was that- was that a sob she heard, too? Her Michael was crying?

Her Michael was _there_ \- well, not in this room, but existing, _alive_.

"What- what year is it?" Philippa croaked out without opening her eyes, and immediately there was a bustling of nurses and doctors around her, but Philippa only noticed the one noise: Michael's voice, answering

" _Philippa!_ Apparently- apparently it's 2261."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, be so kind and let me know!
> 
> Edit: I might write a follow up story and/or Michael's POV, leave a comment and I'll let you know when I post it!


End file.
